


you're a wasp nest

by raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blind!Light, Fluff, L is a loser, Light is snarky shit, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthegripofahurricane/pseuds/raisuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Light was already wandering off, his cane clicking rhythmically as he navigated the halls. He gave L a half-hearted wave before merging back into the flow of people.</p><p>L was fairly sure he has just been tricked into buying Light Yagami dinner, and he was also pretty sure Light Yagami is the most audacious person he had ever met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're a wasp nest

**Author's Note:**

> Ha, yep, I still write. I'm still alive.  
> I promised this weeks ago, but I've been busy with exams, what can I say? Plus, it turned out longer than I originally anticipated.  
> This is hideously, and unrepentantly fluffy, I'm so sorry. But I saw a couple of people talking about blind!light, as well as some art, and I've actually entertained the idea quite a lot, so I thought, hey, why not? I've been working on other things as of late, so I thought I needed a break. I've tried to be as accurate as possible, but please remember I'm not a doctor.

Sayu Yagami had been a horrible influence on L. 

L wasn’t normally one to go on wild nights out with large groups of people—hell  
\--he was hardly one to go out with large groups of people ever. He normally found the drunken conversation and superficial company incomparably tedious, however, when Sayu Yagami, a freshman three years younger than himself, invited him out, inexplicably, he couldn’t say no. Especially when she blinked her big, round, brown eyes at him. Although L prided himself for his intelligence, he was not altogether immune to the charms of cute girls.

And how could he have resisted when she grabbed him by the wrist, giggling, daring him to find something for her, that happened to be hidden in the depths of her panty drawer?  
L blamed the liquor on spurring him on (not that he was drunk, of course.) Sayu had looked even more surprised at him saying yes than he was.

He gulped. He was, undoubtedly intelligent, the best in his class for that matter, but what harm could one night be? That’s what the majority of twenty-somethings year olds did, right? They made stupid decisions that could end extremely badly, and to his credit, he was hardly the picture of lucidity in that moment. 

The Yagami home was of average size. Like Sayu had said, the back door had had a key under the matt, and L had, albeit with some struggle, gotten inside. He was now doing his best to be as quiet and balanced as possible, and even then there was a slight sway in his step—and L was petrified of accidentally breaking something.  
There didn’t seem to be anyone home, luckily. Sayu had promised her parents were out for the weekend, but L didn’t want to risk turning on the lights anyway. The rest of the house was already dark, so lights flickering on at 1am might arouse neighbourly suspicion, especially if the Yagamis’ car wasn’t in the driveway.

L felt dizzy. Maybe he was more of a lightweight than he had previously believed. He was pretty sure Sayu and her friends had something of a similar nature earlier that night.  
He found the stairs by some miracle, and began to stumble up them, doing his best to remain stealthy. 

The halls were illuminated dimly by moonlight from the window, giving L more to work with than the living room. He felt for a doorknob, a film of sweat coating his forehead. After a fair amount of griping around, he twisted a doorknob and fell into a bedroom, hoping desperately it was Sayu’s. 

It wasn’t. 

L could hear the sound of shifting sheets from the other side of the room—the house hadn’t been empty after all. Just his luck.

A body, seemingly male, sit up abruptly from a mound of cushions. L swore under his breath.

“Dad?” It said feebly, still hoarse from sleep. The voice sounded adolescent—possibly around L’s own age. “Is that you?”

L froze. Maybe if he didn’t move, the boy would believe it to be his imagination.

“I know someone’s there,” the boy persisted. “Dad? Mom? Sayu?”

L had never met Sayu’s parents, but he could guess his frame didn’t much resemble either of theirs—even in the dark. He would be even more surprised if he had been mistaken for Sayu—considering Sayu was much shorter, much bustier, and much more female than himself. 

“Who’s there?” The boy repeated. He was quiet for a moment. “Are you trying to rob my house?” He asked quietly. L wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected a playful lilt to the boy’s voice. 

“No,” L said slowly, “I’m really sorry—I’m a friend of Sayu’s, I just—” He exhaled, trying to sort his thoughts. His head was beginning to spin, and his thoughts, no matter how much he tried, were slow and clumsy. 

This was most certainly the last time he ever drank.

“Do you want me to switch the lights on?” L asked sheepishly, “you could see better…” His voice trailed off.

The boy was quiet, and L heard him moving under his duvet. 

“Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?” 

“What?”

“You said you were a friend of Sayu’s,” he said lowly, “didn’t she tell you about her brother?”

“Brother?” L repeated under his breath, more to himself than the boy, “that would make sense.”

“Are you listening?”

“Of course, of course! Sorry, it’s just your sister dared me to—never mind—I’m switching the lights on.” L felt for the switch on the wall, and the room was flooded with yellow light. 

Sayu’s brother was pale and handsome. He was around L’s size, and from what he could guess, around his age too. His hair was swept off his face, evidently from tossing in his sleep. An unusual auburn—L noted—different to Sayu’s. He wondered absently whether or not it was dyed. His eyes were dilated and unfocused, not even looking in his direction. When L’s thoughts finally made sense of things, he cursed himself for not realizing sooner.

Oh.

No wonder he was offended when he offered to switch the lights on.

The boy felt around for something by his bed, his hands eventually settling on a slender, black cane. He sat up, moving so he was propped up against the headboard. 

“I won’t repeat myself again.” He said evenly, “Who the fuck are you?”

He didn’t sound friendly. (Although, understandably, L thought. He didn’t think he would be in the best mood if a stranger broke into his house and unwittingly brought attention to his disability.)

“My—my name’s L Lawliet.” He said cautiously, he added a weak, “please don’t call the police.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, L regretted them. Giving him his name was quite possibly the worst thing to do.

“I won’t.” The boy said pensively. He paused, mulling over L’s words. “I’m Light.” He added, his brow crinkling, “hasn’t Sayu mentioned me?”

“No.”

Light frowned.

“We haven’t known each other that long,” L added quickly, “and even then, family was hardly what we were talking about—”

“I’m not upset,” Light insisted, “what is it you’re doing here, may I ask?”

“A dare,” L said. It somehow managed to sound even more stupid when the words were said aloud—which was difficult. 

“What is it?” Light asked, “The dare, I mean?”

“I don’t think you want to know.”

Light snorted. “What is it you need?”

“Sayu’s room. Could you… tell me where it is?”

“You’re right,” Light said tiredly, pushing a finger into his temple, “I don’t think I want to know.”  
“Thanks,” L made a move to leave, but threw Light a fleeting glance, “I’m sorry about the lights comment . I didn’t realize you were…”

“Blind?” Light said bluntly, “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I guess I’m sorry too, I overreacted.”

“You’re blind…” L mused to himself, “and your name is… Light?”

“Pretty ironic, huh?” Light laughed humorlessly, “I wasn’t born blind. It was too late to change my name at that point.”

They were quiet, and L shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He itched to leave, but even without really seeing him, Light’s gaze was searing.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” He lied, “but I have to—”

“Of course.” Light said dryly, rolling over, “I’ll see you around. Or not.”

He seemed remarkably unsurprised, as if strangers breaking into his room and making conversation with him happened on a semi-regular basis. Light Yagami, L thought, he’d have to look him up…

“Yeah…” L began to close the door, uselessly switching the light off as he left, his cheeks burning. He was grateful Light could see it. 

He was never drinking with Sayu again. Or with anyone, for that matter.

 

* * *

The second time L came across Light Yagami was two weeks later.

Sayu had told him, laughingly, that there hadn’t even been anything in the drawer and it had all just been a drunken joke. L had cursed Sayu Yagami, and then additionally, himself, for believing such bullshit. He then resolved to never touch any alcoholic beverage, and cut off all ties with anyone who had ever seen him in such an intoxicated state. It would be quite a feat, but L had remarkable perseverance. 

Understandably, he’d been pissed at Sayu, and hadn’t talked to her in over a week. He had a feeling the hostility wouldn’t last—Sayu had an uncanny ability to be able to worm her way back into people’s lives. 

L was generally believed himself to be someone who had good control over the words that came out of his mouth. However, when he saw Light Yagami lounged in a café seat, his eyes obscured by dark glasses. He stopped dead in his tracks, speechless, mentally cursing the god who had made him go through this twice. 

“Is someone there?” Light asked suspiciously, pulling his earphones out. He must have heard the skid of shoes against the pavement.

“Yes,” L said, “it’s me—L.”

He might as well apologize for the other day—really—that was the least he could do. 

“Oh, Lawliet-san.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “would you like to sit down?”

“If you would like.” After Light nodded, he sat down stiffly—he could tell Light was uncomfortable too.

“What are you listening to?” L asked absently, beckoning to the waitress. 

“Just some required reading for my literature class,” Light said, “it’s pretty boring.”

“Really? Which book?”

“Play, actually. _All My Sons_.”

“I haven’t read it either,” L offered, “or seen it.” He studied Light for a while, who gaze leveled somewhere behind. “You don’t read braille?”

“I do,” Light affirmed, “audiobooks are just easier to get a hold of. Easier to get through, too.”

The waiter bustled over, giving L a honeyed smile, his obvious distaste still bleeding through.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked.

“Just a cappuccino, please.” L hesitated, “could you bring some sugar over, too?”

He nodded, “one cappacino…” He turned to Light, “can I get anything else for you, Sir?” 

“Hm? Oh, no thanks.”

He disappeared inside, and L turned back to Light.

“I’m sorry about the other night, by the way.” He said stiffly. L was good at most things—but apologies weren’t one of them. “I must have scared you.”

“Not really. And it’s fine.” He paused for a moment, “so… how did it end?”

“How did what end?”

“The bet. With my sister.”

“Oh. Well, it’s turns out you’re sister was tricking me,” L sniffed, “which was extremely malicious. She took advantage of my susceptible intoxicated state.”

Light snickered, an edge of cruelty to his voice, “yeah, she does that on occasion.”

L was silent, watching Light reproachfully. For some reason he couldn’t quite believe he would just let the entire incident go—he certainly didn’t seem like that kind of person to L.  
They were quiet until L’s coffee arrived, and L grabbed a handful of sugar packets, and dutifully ripped all of the tops off, tipping them one by one into his coffee. He was grateful for the distraction.

“Is that sugar you keep pouring in?” Light asked, scrunching up his nose.

“Yes.”

“That’s disgusting. How many packets have you added? I can practically smell it.”

L shrugged, “I’m not sure. Twelve? Aren’t you going to add any to yours?”

Light looked repulsed. “Your teeth must be hideous,” he told L gratingly. “And I can’t, I’m diabetic.”

“You know,” L grumbled, sip from his cup and ignoring how it seared his tongue, “in movies, blind characters are always so much wiser and more enlightened than other characters.” His gaze fell to his drink, “you’re nothing like that.”

Light was silent, and L was terrified for a second that he had offended him. It was a stupid thing to say—really—hideously insensitive, but before L could hurriedly apologize, Light barked with laughter. 

“I always thought that archetype was pretty stupid. Losing my sight never made me more at peace or any shit like that, it just made me feel like the world owed me something.” Light wrinkled his nose slightly, as if the idea disgusted him.

“I guess that’s understandable,” L said with a nod. He stared dully into his drink, “I think I feel like the world owes me something too.”

“And what is that?”

“I don’t know. Better luck, maybe?”

Light laughed airily, “I felt that too. You know, for a while I even blamed my parents. The kanji for my name is written with four strokes you know, it’s supposed to be bad luck.” He shook his head, “I got over that one, though. I wasn’t in the bed place, you understand.”

L blinked. “I lost my mother,” he admitted. He wasn’t quite sure where the impulse came from, but L went through with it. L’s family life wasn’t something he generally advertised, but he felt awkward leaving all the sentimentalities to Light. “I blamed everyone too.”

Light was quiet, seemingly shocked. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Just like it’s not my fault you’re blind.” He sighed “I found it easier to blame everyone—including myself—for her death, because that’s so much easier than accepting you just have rotten luck.”

“You’re right. There’s nothing more frustrating than realizing how preventable the whole ordeal was. And it’s even more depressing to think that sometimes, life just isn’t fair.”

L mulled over his words for a moment, before breaking out of the trance and hurriedly chugging down the remainder of his coffee. He reached for his bag, throwing Light an apologetic glance. 

“Nice seeing you, Light-kun, but I have class, so I really have to go….” It wasn’t a lie. He did, but he didn’t want Light to think he was just making excuses to leave.

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll see you around,” his head jerked up, as if he’d just remembered something. “Wait, Lawliet, aren’t—”

L had already disappeared.

 

* * *

L’s mother had once told him that once was chance, twice was a coincidence and three times was a pattern. He’d told her, at the time, that that wasn’t how probability worked—but he’d understood the sentiment. 

And if three times was a pattern, some kind of cosmic entity clearly had a penchant for throwing him into awkward situations with Light Yagami.

L had been talking in a low voice to a classmate when he heard the tapping of a cane, and looked up to see Light strolling through the hallways. For a second, L was caught in complete disbelief. For someone who was blind—Light Yagami seemed to find him better than anyone else. 

“L?” Light called, pausing in his tracks. “Is that you? I recognized your voice.”

“You must excellent hearing,” L grumbled, “I wasn’t speaking very loudly.”

Light broke out into a grin, “You know what they say,” he laughed, “when you lose a sense the others heighten to make up for it. Besides,” he noted, “your voice is very distinctive. Much lower than most people’s.”

The girl L was talking to looked bemused, and L gestured with his head for her to leave. She hurried away, casting Light a perplexed glance.

Once she disappeared, L turned back to Light.

“Can I help you?”

“Aren’t you friendly. How do you know I don’t just like talking to you?”

“Do you?”

“No. You didn’t pay for your coffee the other day.”

“I didn’t?” L replied vaguely. He didn’t particularly want to maintain the argument—nor did he really want to give Light any money.

“Aren’t you going to pay me back?”

“What?”

“Don’t bother pretending it’s because you’re broke,” Light said scathingly, “Sayu told me all about how loaded your dad is.”

“What?” L asked again. His vocabulary seemed to have unexplainably shrunk—apparently as a result of prolonged exposure to one of the most audacious, obnoxious people he’d ever met. “She talks about that?”

“Don’t be offended. She loves gossiping about everyone’s financial situation. It’s her way.”

“I don’t have any money on me…” L grumbled. “I didn’t bring my wallet.”

“Oh, Lawliet. You keep getting more indebted to me. Breaking into my house… making me pay for your drinks…” Light grinned. He seems to be enjoying this, L noted irritably. 

“I’ll pay you back.” He promised.

“How can I ensure I’ll see you again?” Light said woundedly. L rolled his eyes, just before, Light snapped his fingers, as if something brilliant had just occurred to him. “I’ll tell you what, maybe you can make it up to me by buying me dinner? I imagine then I can just about forgive you.”

“What?”

“God, is that the only word you know? Let’s say Friday… six? You know that new restaurant that’s opened around the corner?”

“That’s ages away from your house.”

“Oh, that’s true. I suppose you’ll have to pick me up.”

“Wait—”

“Great! I’ll see you then?”

“Light—”

But Light was already wandering off, his cane clicking rhythmically as he navigated the halls. He gave L a half-hearted wave before merging back into the flow of people.

L was fairly sure he has just been tricked into buying Light Yagami dinner, and he was also pretty sure Light Yagami is the most audacious person he had ever met. 

 

* * *

Light’s house looked quite different in early evening, and when L was sober. He almost had to stop himself from entering through the back. 

Light’s mother opened the door, a broad smile on her face. Her eyebrows briefly rose when she saw L’s baggy clothes and gaunt frame—but it quickly morphed back. L had spent hours wondering what to wear, and then had remembered that Light wouldn’t know, and that he didn’t give a damn about what anyone else would think anyway, least of all Light. 

“I’m Light’s friend,” L said, giving Mrs. Yagami an awkward smile, “he’s here, right?”

“Oh, yes.” She bustled towards the stairs, craning her neck through the banister. “Light!” She called up, “you have a friend here.”

“Coming!” Light returned.

She turned back to L with a smile. “It’s unusual for him to go out with friends,” she told him wanly, “you must be quite interesting.”

“I’m about average.”

She simpered, and heat crawled up the back of L’s neck, and he wondered whether or not this counted as a date. He’d never been on a date with a man before—and had always complacently assumed he was straight. He couldn’t deny Light was handsome though, and he was charming in his obnoxious, arrogant kind of way.  
He wasn’t even sure if this technically counted as a date—or if Light genuinely just wanted a free meal. He didn’t take many girls out on dates, come to think of it. Sure, he’d had a couple of one-night stands, but whenever they’d actually struck up conversations they seemed to go off him rather quickly. 

Light appeared at the top of the stairs, offering L a small smile. It was unfair, L thought dully, how Light always managed to look so put together despite not having working eyes. It was unfair that he had a naturally symmetrical and a conventionally attractive face too—he didn’t have to check himself to see if he looked presentable. 

“Haven’t changed your mind?” L murmured, only half-joking. 

“Of course not. I don’t get a free dinner that often. Should we go?”

He bounced to L’s side, his mother dutifully handing his cane. 

“Are you not going to wear your glasses?” L asked.

“I don’t like to wear them indoors,” Light explained, “one person always unfailingly asks me why I’m wearing sunglasses.”

L laughed, plunging his hands into his pockets. He liked Light’s company, even if he could be somewhat grating.

They wandered down Light’s street, chatting idly. Conversation meandered from almost any mundane topic L could conjure—classes, people, even parties.  
Through the course of their walk to the restaurant—L found out Light attended the same college as him, and a few of the same classes. He was two years younger than L, and a year older than Sayu. He was majoring in Psychology, but used to hold a passion for detective work, Light told him. He’d become quickly disillusioned after losing his eyesight, and had opted to work in criminal psychology instead. 

“Would you consider going into treatment?” L asked, curious.

“No,” Light laughed, “I don’t think I’d have the patience.”

The restaurant was moderately busy, and luckily, they were given a table almost immediately. The tables were packed closely together—and L had to resist sticking out a hand to guide Light as they wove through the labyrinth of mismatched tables, chairs, customers and waiters—but he knew Light would probably punch him in the face if tried. 

“What does it look like in here?” Light asked after they sat down. His eyes were set on the wall behind L’s head—staring but unseeing.

L paused, surveying the room. He was never the best at writing, despite his many talents. It would be difficult to describe the place in anything other than colors and objects.

Light seemed to read his thoughts, because after a moment he hastily told L he didn’t need to bother being poetic. 

“Uh, well…” L’s eyes drifted to the door, “the door is glass, and you can see into the streets—which are half lit by the streetlights. The light is a kind of cobalt blue.” 

Light nodded, as if he was visualizing the scene. 

“The restaurant is half empty, and most the people in here are middle-aged couples or business people. The tables are round, each one is a different color. And a few of the chairs are mismatched.” He narrowed his eyes, searching for additional details.

“There are a few statues dotted around the place,” he told Light under his breath, “I’m not sure what they’re supposed to be of—they’re not the most aesthetically pleasing.”

That made Light laugh. He leaned back into his chair leisurely. 

“Do you mind reading out the menu for me?”

“Oh, sure.” L skimmed the words, and after clearing his throat, began to read each line out ceremoniously. The place didn’t seem to have quite decided which cuisine it was going for—there were a few traditional Japanese dishes here and there, but there were also Chinese, French, Indian and Mexican. Light apparently noticed it too, and noted dryly that the place seemed rather mismatched by principle. 

“Hmm,” Light mused, after L had finished reading. “I’m not entirely sure. What are you going to get?”

“I’m not sure. I might just skip to desserts.”

“Do they even allow that? And did you mention crocodile?”

“Yes, there’s a crocodile stew. Crocodile isn’t exciting as you would think, though. It just tastes like fish.”

“You’ve eaten crocodile?”

“Yes. When I went to Australia.”

“You’ve been to Australia?” Light asked wistfully, “I’ve never even left Japan. The most exciting holiday I’ve ever been on was to my Grandparents’ in Aomori.”

“My father went through a phase of taking me to exotic countries.” L sighed, staring into his glass. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t a big fan of the humidity.”

“So what does your daddy do, then?” Light asked. He leaned forwards, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“He’s a lawyer.”

“Oh?”

“Not the justice-loving kind. He’s not a defense attorney either—although that would be fun. He just sues people on the behalf of rich CEOs.”

“Can’t be too bad. I mean, he’s taking you on trips to Australia, right?”

“Hmm. What does yours do?”

“Policeman. More justice loving…” Light shrugged, “Fewer trips to Australia.”

“From what I heard from Sayu you’ll be buying your own fancy trips to Australia before long.” L added. When Sayu last talked to him about Light—she’d talked about his astounding grades and the unreal work ethic she’d never had.

“So Sayu does talk about me?”

“In passing.”

Light was quiet, his features souring slightly. “What the hell would I do on a trip to Australia anyway?” he said bitterly. “I wouldn’t even be able to see the black widow before it bit my face.”

“Maybe not Australia.”

Light huffed.

Neither of them spoke, until Light said decidedly, “Order me the crocodile.”

“Really?”

“Well, I’ll never see one, so I might as well taste one.”

“Fair enough.” L shrugged, and Light threw him a fleeting grin. 

L studied him over the menu. There was one advantage of their situation—at least Light didn’t see him staring—because that would make everything much more uncomfortable.

“To tell you the truth,” Light said lowly, “I wouldn’t feel like I’d earned it. The fancy job that buys me trips to Australia, that is.”

“And why is that?”

“It would probably be some affirmative action shit,” Light told him, wrinkling his nose slightly, “and even if it wasn’t, people would think it was, you know?”

“If it makes you feel any better, people never think I’ve earned anything either.”

“Because you’re rich?”

“People presume my father bought me in, which isn’t true. I’m fairly sure he’d rather I wasn’t here.” L’s words were humorous, but not without a bitter edge.

“That must be hard for you, rich boy.”

“Okay, bad comparison.”

The waitress came and took their orders, and a few minutes later, several waiters paraded over, ceremoniously whipping the lids off steaming hot plates. L had to cover his mouth to stop himself from snorting with laughter.

“What?” Light asked, once the waiters had left. “What’s with the snickering?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Light said, smiling slightly. L wasn’t sure if Light knew how disarming his smiles were—and it was annoying him. The likelihood was that Light had a hideously nice smile ever since he’d been able.

The food was good, and L found a sort of liberty in their conversation. It had been a while since he’d known a person who could both comprehend everything he said and understood his sense of humor. Begrudgingly, L decided that maybe Light Yagami wasn’t quite as irritating as he had initially come to believe. 

 

“You could have at least split the bill with me,” L grumbled, hands dug in his pockets.

It had rained since they’d been inside the restaurant, and the streets were aglow with the reflections of fluorescent lights, bleeding into the reflection of the moon and sky. 

“I told you,” Light said cheerfully, “it’s only repayment for your drunken shenanigans in my house, as well as leaving me to be pay for your coffee.”

“That food was extremely expensive.”

“You can afford it, asshat. Share your wealth with the less fortunate.”

They wandered along at a leisurely pace. L’s arms swung slightly at his side, and the only noise was the sound of Light’s cane grazing against the sidewalk. It was relaxing, in a strange sort of way.

“I was fourteen, you know.” Light said suddenly. His head was tilted down towards the floor, causing his hair to curtain his eyes.

“What?”

“When I lost my sight.” He said evenly, “Proliferative diabetic retinopathy.”

L didn’t know what to say—so he didn’t say anything. 

“I was playing tennis, and I started seeing spots in my vision. I thought I was about to faint or something—but they didn’t go away.” He laughed breathily. “My mother took me to the doctors’, but it was too late.”

“You played tennis?”

“Very well actually. I actually won an international tournament, and was on my way to winning my second.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Light smiled wanly, “weren’t we talking about that the other day? That it’s just pointless to blame other people or ourselves, because it’s all just horrible luck?”

“You know what I mean.”

“How about your mother?” Light asked, his voice low and careful. “One tragic past for another, right?”

“Since we’re talking medical—chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. She smoked like a chimney, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised.”

“But you were?”

“Of course.”

They wandered past a parade of closed shops, L watching passively as young people meandered through the street, the first wave of clubbers, he imagined.

“You know what I like about you, L?” Light said, breaking the silence. His voice was stark against the near silence. He was leaning close now, and L could feel his breath against his cheek.

“What?”

“Maybe it’s justified, but everyone I’ve never known has always treated me like I’m made of glass. It gets frustrating.” He halted, “You don’t.”

L’s eyes flitted over to Light. It had never occurred to him to treat Light like he was fragile—because he wasn’t. Despite being thin, his words and steps were decisive—and he seemed to make every room he entered his. L had never been like that—simply drifting from place to place like a ghost. He could understand why someone like Light liked that, despite not knowing him for long, L could tell he was the type to fiercely defend their own independence. L supposed he was the same. 

“I’m glad you like that,” he said softly, “to tell you the truth, I don’t get too many dates.”

“And why would that be, Mr. Lawliet?” Light asked laughingly, taking a step closer. His coat brushed against L’s arm, and electricity surged through L’s bones.

“Ha ha.” He said dryly, doing his best to regulate his heartbeat. He cursed himself mentally—he was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Damn Light Yagami and his conventionally attractive features and undeniable charm. 

“It was a genuine question.” Light said coyly, “I find you rather charming.”

“Is that the same way you believe yourself to be charming?” L returned coolly, “in an obnoxious, cocky way?”

Light grinned, “I would have said socially deficit, in your case, but that applies to you, too.”

“I change my mind. Your bad attitude comes with no aftertaste of charm.”

“You just have to wait for it, Lawliet.”

“Still not coming.”

“And yet you came on a date with me?”

“Who says this is a date?”

“Oh, come on, Lawliet.” Light simpered, “you took me for a candlelight dinner…”

“…Which you all but blackmailed me into…”

“And now you’re walking me home.”

“How else would you get home? I have my flaws, but I’m not going to leave a blind teenager wandering around the city after dark.”

Light tilted his head, “Now you’re trying to play my sympathies by telling me sad stories about how girls don’t like you.”

“It’s not a sob story,” L insisted, “As I said, I’m not most people’s type. They don’t generally go for the lanky, pale, look. I’m not looking for sympathy—in fact I don’t really care.”

“You think you’re not attractive?” Light queried. Before L could do anything, Light’s hands had shot forwards, and were trailing down his cheekbones and face. L blenched, before relaxing into the touch, grateful for the fact Light couldn’t see the pink tinge to his cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Light murmured briskly, “You’ve got good bone structure… and your skin is very smooth.”

“It takes more than that.”

Light’s hand was resting on the back of his neck now, and not knowing what else to do, L leaned forwards and brushed his lips against Light’s.

“Well, you’re alright-looking, too.” He murmured against Light’s mouth. 

For a moment, Light was still, not reacting to the lips moving against his. L couldn’t help but feel satisfied; Light Yagami was someone who always seemed to maintain utter control. But the shock waned, and Light’s hands had started skimming his cheekbones—as if he was trying to put a mental picture of L together in his mind. He pulled L’s face towards his, half missing his mouth, his arms wrapping clumsily around his neck. L’s hands threaded in his hair, and whilst their mouths didn’t fit perfectly together, and nothing about it could be described as mind numbing—but it was different and undeniably pleasant. 

“You’re house is down that road,” L said lamely, panting slightly, after they broke apart.

“Yes,” Light replied breathily, “what makes you think we’d stop walking?”

L stared at him in surprise—but he couldn’t complain.

 

* * *

L’s apartment, as always, was astronomically messy. In his own defense, he was only partially to blame, as his roommate, Matt, put him to shame. He’d never thought to tidy up the place before, and the idea was only coming to him as he and Light tripped over various empty cans of beer and sweet boxes as they stumbled through the living room.

“Your living room is disgusting,” Light murmured against his ear, “what are those things that I keep stepping on?”

“Empty takeout boxes, mostly.” L promised, “They’re my roommates’, I swear.”

L fumbled with the doorknob to his room, groping blindly for it to open, his other hand cupping Light’s jaw. It came ajar, and they fell hurriedly onto the bed. 

“I really hope you’re not diseased,” Light said as L struggled with his zipper, “because I haven’t got any condoms.”

L rolled over, swinging the drawer open and feeling around. He was panting slightly, and he could see Light from the corner of his eye, watching his expectantly. 

“I’ve got it,” He said. Light was lounging on his bed like an oversized cat, and if L didn’t know better, he’d say he looked bored. L grazed his lips against Light’s neck, brewing with satisfaction when he shivered. 

“This sounds cliché,” Light whispered, “But, have you ever done it before?”

L pulled back, studying Light carefully. “Yes,” he admitted, after a small pause, “only with girls. Can’t say I liked it that much, either.”

Light nodded pensively, still quiet. 

“How about you?” L asked.

“I haven’t.”

L couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, “Never?”

“I don’t go out that much,” Light confessed. He looked slightly abashed. “At least, anymore.”

It made sense, really, but L couldn’t help but feel surprised. Light had the undeniable aura of someone who was experienced in such ways. L wandered numbly how he ought to go about things.  
He knew Light wouldn’t appreciate any sort of forensic caution or affectionate reassurance, so instead, he murmured against Light’s jaws that he’d bare it in mind. His hands began skimming Light’s sides, and Light inhaled sharply. His hands felt for L’s neck, and he pulled him down for a kiss. The kiss dragged on, dizzying and blissful, Light’s teeth grazing slightly against his upper lip. When L broke away, Light’s cheeks were tinged with pink.

L pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it thoughtlessly to the side. He leaned down, his lips grazing corner of Light’s jaw. He was dimly aware of the shifting of muscles beneath the surface of his skin as he smiled—and the gratifying feeling of Light’s fingertips pressing into his ribcage. Light’s jeans were admittedly harder to wrestle off, especially in the somewhat compromising position. 

“Jesus, L.” Light jabbed, “You clearly don’t have much practice.”

“I’m trying my best here!”

Light laughed, “Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

L kissed him again, if only to shut him up, his hand ghosting over his bicep. He couldn’t help the noise of satisfaction when he finally pulled off Light’s jeans. 

“There we go. Took you long enough.”

“Oh, be quiet.”

The room was lit only by the thin bands of light that filtered through the blinds, painting yellow stripes down the walls. L could see Light’s outline beneath him when he pulled away slightly, slim and lithe, his eyes obscured by shadows, long, sinewy legs hooked around his waist. 

“I hope you trust me,” L whispered huskily, adjusting himself into the right position. Light huffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

For a while the only sound were Light’s slightly ragged pants, and L’s occasional murmurs of reassurance. L wasn’t quite sure what to say, nor what to do with his other hand, and so decided on resting it on the top of the headboard. Light’s face contorted slightly at first, but once the tip of L’s finger brushed against something, he cried out, his nails carving crescent moons into L’s shoulder blades.  
His hands were wrapped around L’s neck now, and L thought dully he could easily strangle him. He pushed unceremoniously into him, and Light’s head fell against the pillows. L kissed his throat fleetingly, pausing, and breathing against his Adam’s apple. 

“God,” Light said in an undertone, “move, Lawliet.”

L started to move again, his own breathing shallow. His hand threaded through Light’s slightly dampened hair, and his mouth found Light’s in blissful, passion-saturated haze. 

At some point, the thrusts became more frantic, the breaths more hurried, and eL slumped against Light, finishing Light lazily. Light groaned, arching his back before collapsing against L’s side. 

L was too blissfully content—too exhausted—to have a shower, or tell Light to leave. Instead, his hand draped lazily over Light’s midsection, and he let sleep pull him swiftly under. 

 

* * *

When L woke, his limbs were slightly stiff, and he felt overwhelmingly warm. His bed wasn’t particularly wide, so when he twisted, he could feel his limbs brush against Light’s. His heart seized and his eyes fluttered open. Light was still asleep—his features uncharacteristically relaxed. Carefully, L withdrew his limbs from the entanglement and pulled himself out of bed. He padded through to the kitchen, pulling some pajama pants on along the way and thanking God Matt was either out or still asleep. Exhausted, he flicked the kettle on and leaned against the counter. A smile crept across his features.

There was no noise from his room, so L presumed his companion was still asleep. He poured himself some coffee, sighing as the scent filled his nostrils. The dropped several sugar cubes in, and after a pause, poured another. He headed back to the bedroom, a steaming cup in each hand. Light appeared to be starting to stir. 

“How long have you been awake?” Light murmured, head buried in pillows, his voice muffled. 

“Only a few minutes.”

“I never pegged you for a morning person.”

“I’m not,” L’s eyed the clock. “It’s past twelve.”

Light rolled over quickly and sat up. His hair was a halo around his head. “It is?” He asked, panicked.

“Yes. Why?”

“I missed my psychology class.” Light said mournfully. 

“Is it worth going now?”

“Probably not. What time is it exactly?”

“Twelve twenty-four.”

“As I thought,” Light grumbled, “It’ll be finishing in five minutes anyway.” He slumped against the bed dejectedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

They were quiet for a few moments, the only noise the sound of the cars whizzing past outside.

“Would you like some coffee?” L asked, unsure of what else to say.

“God, please.”

L passed the cup over, and Light took is graciously, wrapping vice-like fingers around the sides. It was a wonder he hadn’t burned himself. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked L, an eyebrow raised.

L considered. “No.” He said decisively. 

“Good, because you need to take me out for breakfast—or lunch I guess. You owe me for making me miss my class.”


End file.
